


It's Raining, Lieutenant

by taubir



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Brief Mention of Suicide, Canon-typical language, Couch Cuddles, Could be read as romantic, Intended to be platonic tho, TV watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taubir/pseuds/taubir
Summary: Connor likes the rain. Hank grudgingly likes Connor.





	It's Raining, Lieutenant

“It’s raining, Lieutenant.”

 

Connor leaned his head back so he could see where Hank sat on the couch watching television with Sumo.

 

“Do you like the rain?”

 

Hank gave him the nastiest side-eye and shuffled a bit on the couch.

 

“I guess,” he grumbled. Despite the man’s tone, Connor smiled.

 

“I like the rain. Not for any particularly pragmatic reason—it causes traffic, makes hazardous puddles, and can cause damage to buildings and electrical equipment. But I still like it.”

 

“That so?” Hank wasn’t listening, Connor knew that. But he kept talking, finding the simple act of being allowed to talk freely about what was on his mind enjoyable.

 

“Yes. It...makes a nice sound.” The ceaseless drumming. The low bass tones that reverberated around the house, hardly discernible to the human ear, but plenty noticeable by an android one. The thunder, in the distance, as it rumbled ominously enough for his sensors to indicate a large presence outside—most likely a source of danger—when there was, in fact, none. It made his heart (or his android equivalent) pump faster in simulated adrenaline. But there was no danger—no, not inside the house. Not where it was warm and dry, and where Hank and Sumo lay draped over that beaten, old, stained couch, watching TV they were only half-paying attention to as water poured from the sky above.

 

Connor watched them for a few moments. He loved them both, dearly. Sumo...he had to take a little while to come to appreciate. But he liked the dog for his protective instincts (reminded him of Hank) and for his soft, soft fur. Just imagining that fur running underneath his fingertips now was urging him to get up and go pet that same fur right now.

 

He looked at Hank. Eternally grumpy and maybe a little less than what might colloquially be referred to as civil, it was hard to think that the man who blamed androids for the death of his son had now come to accept one living with him as part of his family. It touched Connor that he could have somehow made such an impact in his life. He felt honored, even, and more than a little proud. He’d read about those who were depressed and suicidal: this kind of recovery was spectacular and while it wouldn’t be without its rough edges, it was still leaps and bounds from Hank’s previous obsession with Russian Roulette.

 

Connor kept staring, and after a few minutes, Hank finally snapped.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Connor—stop that creepy staring! Either knock it off or come over here already, you big baby.”

 

Smiling too slightly for Hank to notice, the android made his way over to the couch. Once there, Hank immediately began making room for Connor. He didn’t look him in the eyes as he did so, though, leading Connor to deduce that he was embarrassed about it. Why, though? This was simply a polite gesture, wasn’t it?

 

He realized the answer soon enough when he saw that Hank had scooted Sumo out of the way enough to leave a space between the dog and—

 

Him.

 

Hank wanted Connor to sit next to him.

 

It would be a tight squeeze, meaning Connor would have no choice but to sit touching the Lieutenant, but one look at Hank’s flushing face and it was clear he was aware of this fact. He’d done it  _ on purpose _ .

 

“Well?” Hank grumbled, and Connor sat down.

 

It took a lot of rearranging and, “Fuck, Connor! Watch your elbow!”, but they managed to find a position they liked. In the end, what ended up was:

 

Hank, on the left side of the couch. Sumo taking up the right and middle sections of the couch. And Connor, wedged between the two with Hank’s arm over his shoulders and legs tangling with each other on the ottoman. Connor wondered only for a moment whether or not it would be a good idea to tease Hank about their current position before he did just that.

 

“Your internal temperature levels are rising, Lieutenant. Is this embarrassing for you?”

 

Hank made a face, as expected. “ _ Embarrassing _ ? Why would I invite you over if I didn’t want you here?”

 

“Well, it’s just that, this position…” Connor wiggled a little deeper into Hank’s side for emphasis. “Almost seems like cuddling, don’t you think?”

 

To suggest that an old, eccentric, hard-boiled police Lieutenant like Hank Anderson could be capable of something like  _ cuddling _ would, clearly, be the highest insult of all.

 

“That’s thin ice you're walking on, Connor,” growled Hank, and Connor laughed, but remained quiet. That was enough for now. He intended to enjoy the rest of his time lying next to his friend on the couch, encased on both ends by warm, soft things that loved him very much. Connor breathed in the smell of Hank, and attached the smell along with visual data to create a memory of happiness deep within his archives. He could return here whenever he needed to now.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been raining nearly non-stop here, and I love the rain, so I decided to write this for the heck of it. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
